


Not sorry

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges after 3x7, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post bear-pit, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 10:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: One night at an inn on their way to King's Landing, Brienne has to tend to Jaime's hand as Qyburn is temporarily unavailable.





	Not sorry

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck! _

A hand, unfortunately, he couldn’t grow to replace the one he’d lost, so swearing was only luxury he could indulge in, and it helped alleviate his frustration, though just marginally. Tasting mud when he sank his teeth into the rags that secured his stitches, he tried not to recoil, the foul smell wafting from the cloth attacking him with a fresh wave of nausea, no worse, of course, than the horse piss he’d been tricked into drinking, the thought itself making him want to retch and spill out his insides. 

Dirt, accompanied by countless strands of worn out thread filled his mouth, but he kept up the struggle, irritated when a knock on the door diverted his attention. “Enter,” he yelled, hoping it was Qyburn. Instead, it was the wench who stepped in, brandishing a vial of murky liquid.

“Where’s Qyburn?” he asked, glad for a moment’s respite from the filthy bandage.

“Out to the village for the night,” she answered, clear and precise. “He asked me to get this--” she held out the medicine. “Something to help you sleep tonight.”

He scoffed. Sleep was now his long lost companion, and he was sure it would keep him at bay, the safety of the inn and the comforting softness of the bed that awaited him tonight unsuccessful in tempting it towards him_ . _ While that was a problem beyond his control, he decided to seek her assistance to help him address the more immediate one. “Close the door and come here,” he called, “and help me out of these wretched bandages.”

Refusing to pay heed, she lingered by the entrance, twirling the vial between her thumb and forefinger in a repetitive rhythmic motion. “Why this hesitation, wench?” he asked, feeling lower than he’d ever felt before. “Can’t stomach my pitiful condition?” No sooner did he vomit these words than it occurred to him that this was a mistake. The wrong person, he’d lashed out at, for she was the only one to have treated him like a human when he was worse than filth from the drains.

She looked at him with eyes full of--_ resentment _? Or was it helplessness that she’d have to be the one to tend to him tonight? Slamming the door shut, she approached him, then grabbing his hand, she began unwinding the soiled rags he’d been imprisoned in. He watched her work for a while. Eyes narrowed in concentration, her long fingers nimbly went about untangling the mass of cloth. She was still wearing the horrible pink gown she’d been punished with, showing more skin that she’d ever done in her life, looking more like a woman than ever.

When his gaze met the curve of her breasts, his stomach did an involuntary lurch, the upheaval it stirred within him throwing him off-guard.

“Love this dress, don’t you?” he shot out with deliberate sarcasm, ignoring her enticingly shapely frame. “So much, that you don’t seem to want to give it up,” he provoked, hoping his brusqueness would drive away the little problem his groin was beginning to suffer from.

She paused. “As if you care,” she muttered under her breath, then returned to his hand, finally stripping it naked. The stitches were angry as before, raw and exposed.

_ I do, _he wanted to tell her, but what came out was an awfully rude, “Irrespective of what you wear, you’ll always be the same, wench.”

A shadow eclipsed her features, but she continued nursing his stump, her voice quivering when she answered his insolence. “After you left, they tied me to a post and gifted me with a generous helping of blows.They cut my lip, smashed my teeth and nearly blinded me.” Only now, only at such close quarters did he notice the purple bruise beneath her eye, rage spreading through every blood-vessel, every nerve that ran through his body when he pictured the torture they’d inflicted on her. “They tried to force themselves on me again. One of them spread my legs apart so that Locke could--” Sniffing, she raised her head to meet his eyes. “I kicked and repelled them as much as I could. I was ready to die, to forsake my life, to do everything required to safeguard my honour. After all I've been through, you think I care about what I ought to wear?” Her expression hardened, leaving him ashamed of his inhuman taunts and incapable of meeting her eyes. 

Remorse wasn’t something Jaime easily felt, and when her words so copiously filled him with it, he was clueless about what to say. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling genuinely so, “I should’ve returned sooner.”

Her jaw twitched a bit, but she carried on, cleaning his wound with a clean cloth. “You came back. That’s what ultimately matters.”

Silence ensued, and with it, peace between them was reinstated, the tension mounting along with his confusing, yet strong feelings for her. He couldn’t help staring at her, he was flooded with nothing but admiration for her, but he couldn’t bring himself to compliment her, knowing he wouldn’t be taken seriously if he did. Taking the easier way out, he resigned to quietly appreciating her. Soft hands, she had, and long shapely fingers - ones that would feel heavenly around his cock. His heart pounding wildly, he shook off that picture, straying to her face instead, her lips attracting his attention. Thick and cracked, though they were, there was a seductive edge to them, and they’d certainly feel good struggling helplessly under his. His cock stirred again in resounding agreement with this mental image, telling him he wasn’t wrong. Her breasts, he could get an ample glimpse of, the gown enhancing their shape, outlining their curves, screaming to him that she was a woman, to be treated like a woman should be. Her teats, he recollected, were gloriously pink, like little round pebbles. How delicious they’d taste, trapped in his mouth--

“There you are,” she said, his wanton thoughts dying an early demise thanks to her untimely intervention. “That should last you the night. And be sure to take this before you sleep.” Placing the vial on the table by his side, she made to leave.

“Wait,” he barked, and she nearly jumped at the unintended ferocity in his tone. “Help me take my shirt off,” he said, failing to come up with a better excuse to prolong her company.

Blotches of colour mapped her cheeks when she slapped him with a brusque, “Do it yourself.”

He didn’t insist, resorting instead to wage a war on his shirt, his teeth and his wrong hand though no match for the stubbornness of his clothes. Soon he was left clinging to a losing battle, but he still carried on relentlessly, pulling at his laces and tugging--

“Oh, move aside,” she snapped, then pushing his hand away, she assumed charge. Letting her take command, he settled down to admire her flushed face when she undressed him, his chest swelling with more than a mere bout of carnal longing for her body. “There you are,” she croaked, her eyes latching on to his when she let his shirt drop limply to the floor.

She tore away her gaze and turned to leave, but he stopped her, claiming her wrist in a vice-like grip. 

“Ser Jaime...” She squirmed under his hold, struggling to speak, but made no attempt to free herself though she could’ve knocked him senseless with just a blow if she wanted to. Her lips fell open, but no words came, and her chest rose and fell at a painful pace, beads of sweat on her heaving breasts telling him that the fire burned tall and bright within her, waiting to consume her. The desire in her eyes was shamelessly blatant, shouting out to him that she wanted him as as badly as he did. 

“Sit down, Brienne,” he requested, gesturing to the spot by his side, and when she obeyed, he shifted closer. “You didn’t shy away from me when everyone else did,” he recalled, tracing invisible patterns on her knuckles. For days, he’d been meaning to ask her this, wanting to find out the reason for her compassion. “You wiped my shit, cleaned my vomit, blood and piss,” he pointed out, overwhelmed by gratitude and so much more. “You were obliged to do none of that.” A bold move, it was, when he touched her on the shoulder, his fingers gently ghosting across her collarbone, kissing her reddening skin. “But you still did. Why did you take care of me?”

“I--” She faltered when he dragged his hand up her neck. “I don’t know,” she mouthed, trembling like a leaf when he ran a soft finger along the scar above her lip.

“Pity, was it?” he prompted, his thumb following the edges of her lips, causing them to twitch beneath his silky trail. “Or was it a debt you tried to settle in return for my hand?” Leaning, he brought his lips to hers. “Was it neither? Was it both? Or was it--” he lightly brushed his mouth against hers “--something else?”

“I don’t know,” she gasped her response, her eyes glassy with arousal, her fiery breath sending all the blood rushing to his groin. “I--” 

Tired of keeping his feelings under wraps, he smothered her with a rough and ruthless kiss, his cold hard lips crashing into hers. He wanted answers. And he wouldn’t let her out of his sight unless he had them. He pushed deeper, his tongue usurping her mouth, tasting her, exploring her, sucking her dry of all her shyness and inhibitions. She showed no resistance, but seemed to be a hesitant partner, cautious and coy, her shyness complementing his aggression. Eager to prove that he longed for her, her grabbed her face, jerking her closer. His endeavour bore fruit, and she kissed him back, tearing down the wall that stood between them, her arms abandoning their guarded positions by her side and pulling him into an embrace. He kissed her like a man insane, and she fought back with the same fervour, attacking his mouth, battling his tongue, her need soaring to the skies when she decorated his lips with gluttonous nips and bites. 

“You don’t know, wench?” he demanded, panting heavily when they’d separated. “Even after--” he ran a finger along his sore broken lip “--this?”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, colouring when she noticed his battered mouth, “I didn’t mean to--”

“You’re sorry?” he asked in disbelief before she could turn tail and flee. “For what? For wanting me?”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she hurriedly replied, the blush spreading all over her white skin.

“What do you mean then?” he shouted, confusion and arousal dimming his logic. “You’re not sorry? Or you don’t want me? Or you’re sorry for wanting me--”

“Oh, shut the hell up!” she exclaimed, then leapt off the bed, the suddenness of her abrupt move catching him unawares.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, the fear that he’d probably touched a nerve crushing his chest. “I--I didn’t mean to--” _ throw myself at you, _he intended to say, but his tongue seemed to have gone off for a walk when she reached for her bodice. “What are you doing?” he breathed, observing her fingers, hoping his brain wasn’t presenting him with illusions to entice him.

“Dispelling your stupid doubts.”

With shaking fingers, she took to unlacing her dress, and Jaime was absorbed in her, eyeing one excruciating knot at a time as it came apart in her hands. When rid of the restraints, she shrugged the gown off her shoulders, uncovering one creamy arm after another. The dress descended further, and he held his breath, watching with undivided attention when her breasts, in all their seductive splendour were out for his eyes, and if he was lucky tonight, his mouth to feast on.

“You’re--” he rasped, fighting to find his voice when she stepped out of the gown in resplendent nakedness “--you’re beautiful,” he managed. His meagre words were a severe understatement, he had to admit, when his eyes wandered to the golden patch between her legs.

“Don’t you lie to me,” she growled, then grabbing his arm, she jerked him to his feet. Before he could mumble an honest denial of her accusation, her hands found his waist.

Clumsily, and with a sense of urgency, she began working on his trousers at a furious pace, brushing against him more than once, the intensity of the ache building up within him growing manifold with every touch. He twitched, gripping her arm when her fingers met his bulging desperation for the third time in seconds. “Have some mercy, woman,” he cried, itching to dig into the tight wetness between her legs. “If you keep going like this I might just split apart in your hands.”

Ignoring him, she did what she wanted, and when she finally brought to an end, his seemingly endless ordeal, she met his eyes, granting him her consent to bed her, to make her his, to show her what it truly meant to be a woman. 

And show her, he would.

Shoving her on the bed, he flung himself atop her, trapping her with his body. Capturing her lips in another searing kiss, he let his hand wander, touching, pinching, groping, caressing… and she moaned, wrapping her legs around his ass, their bodies, a tangled pile of limbs. His lips travelled all over, along her chin, down her throat and further downwards, onto the glorious mound that obstructed his progress.

“_Fuck_,” she cursed, when he flicked his tongue over a nipple, and when he took the pearly pink beauty between his teeth, she arched into him with a violent shudder, tearing at his hair and scratching his back. “Gods!” she whimpered, punishing his shoulder with a desperate bite when he slipped a finger into her, followed by another, teasing the little nub that was certain to maximise her pleasure. Resorting to a rhythmic motion, his merciless fingers plunged harder and deeper into her cunt every time he went in, rubbing her clit, driving her insane, taking her to the edge and letting her plummet. With a throaty noise when she could take it no more, she fell back on the bed, reeling under the aftermath of a thunderous climax. He kissed his way up her chest, his cock dripping dangerously when he came upon her flushed cheeks, the knowledge that he was the reason for this sobbing mess of pleasure in his arms taking his arousal to insurmountable heights. 

“Make love to me,” she begged, when she’d found the strength to talk again, groping his balls in desperation and stroking the length of his shaft, her lust-ridden eyes widening when he went rock-hard in her hands.

Swatting her hand away, he jerked himself free. “Not like this, wench,” he growled, then pinning her down with his weight, he entered her, sinking into her inch by fucking inch. 

Slowly, he took it, reminding himself that she was a virgin, that he had to be gentle, to treat her like a lady, like the maiden she was. She winced when he’d furthered as far as he could, and he kissed away her pain with all the tenderness he could infuse into his touch, his lips assuring her that he’d always be there for her, that she’d always be safe in his arms. “_Jaime,_” she sighed, dropping his title, and along with that, the last remaining barriers between them as she held him to her chest. “I am yours,” she exhaled into his kiss, shifting her hips to ease his thrusts. He began pounding harder, and she rose to meet him, her thighs thumping against his. “For now, and forever,” she moaned, her tender breasts rubbing into his rough chest hair, the friction covering her delicate skin with angry red patches.

He was a man on fire, slamming into her like it was the end of the world, and when she returned his kiss, she was the personification of desire, devouring him with insatiable hunger. He plundered her, tormented her, his cock disappearing into the depths of her, hitting her where it mattered, his touch shattering her to pieces, and she begged and pleaded, cursed and growled, aching for a release, meeting every move, every thrust with vigour that matched his. So wild, their fucking turned out to be, and so high the tempo they’d reached, that the rickety old bed creaked ominously under them, leaving him worried that it might meet its end before either of them did.

“Jaime!” she cried out in desperation, and with a loud scream, she collapsed into violent tremors, her agony coming to an end when she slumped to the mattress. Not far behind, he surrendered to a gloriously blissful explosion that ripped him apart, finishing inside her, melting into her embrace in contentment, sinking into her to recover his breath.

“I wasn’t lying earlier, Brienne,” he said, kissing her when the extent of his affection for her hit him like a bolt from the sky. “You _ are _ beautiful. Ignore every other piece of shit I said before that. I’m slick with words, but terrible at expressing myself--”

“And I’m not sorry at all,” she smiled into his lips, cupping his face with her damp hands. “Not sorry to have cared for you. It wasn’t pity, nor was it some compulsion to pay you back. It was--” She deepened the kiss, and he savoured the moment’s silence and the quiet comfort of her touch before she let go. “I’m not sorry for wanting you, Jaime, nor am I sorry for falling in love with you.”

He pressed his lips to her sweaty forehead. “Stay with me then,” he urged, “maybe not immediately, not until you fulfil your responsibilities, but after that you could, perhaps--” he kissed down her nose to meet her lips again “allow me to--” he hesitated, unsure how to put his thoughts to appropriate words “--to take care of you, to protect your honour for the rest of your life.”

“Because a Lannister always pays his debts?” she teased, her eyes shining with a mischievous glint. “But you owe me nothing, on the contrary--”

He claimed her lips in another burst of passion, shutting her up, proving to her that life went beyond debts, that _ she _ was above all this. “Because I love you, Brienne,” he said, his words a blunt realisation of the naked truth, a blatant admission of his feelings for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another excuse to get these two idiots together. Hope you had fun with it.


End file.
